Though Eleanore had made it clear the pair were free to stay with her as long as they’d like, Pug felt the time to leave Midburg was approaching rapidly. He had come to enjoy spending his days with Eleanore and Thalia, but he’d be lying if he said he was comfortable here. He yearned for the simplicity of his village and this city was already filled to the brim with emotions clawed at his heart. Worse yet, Tourmaline seemed to have shut down entirely in the face of recent events. She spoke rarely to Pug and he was the one she spoke with the most. It didn’t seem to be born of any resentment, just exhaustion and grief. It was a shame, he thought, as he could see Lina and Eleanore hitting it off under other circumstances. Still, their families were likely worried sick and someone had to carry the news to Jet’s mother.
begged the question, of course, of how to return home. Speaking in terms of distance, a large portion of their journey had been undertaken on the back of an owl or being carried by various humans. Their long legs meant every step they took dwarfed anything creatures of Pug or Tourmaline’s size could manage. He could have asked Thalia to carry them, however human maps were rather lacking in detail and Pug had no idea where on the map his own village or the burrow would be. Deciding he needed someone more supernaturally inclined, Pug hunted down Bartleby a few days ago to ask him a favor. The well connected king of the cats had obliged, arranging transport home for them through Danica. The whole thing was arranged through a series of messages exchanged between couriers both mundane and fantastical, Bartleby’s primary point of contact being a rather irate finch who had the misfortune of owing the king of cats a favor.
“I caught him a few months back, seemingly oblivious to the fact he was perched on a rooftop in my kingdom.” Bartleby had explained, sprawling languidly in the sun as he awaited Danica’s response. “I wasn’t very hungry at the time, so I let him go. Provided he do me a favor at a time of my choosing, of course?”
“So he owes you because you didn’t kill him?” Pug asked slowly. Seemed like someone who threatened his life would be the last person Pug would do a favor for, but the cat seemed confident enough his message would be delivered.
“Precisely.”
“Well why didn’t he just take off? He could’ve flown away anywhere. Not like you could’ve caught up to him.” Pug hazarded the question, knowing Bartleby was likely to mock him.
Bartleby eyed Pug like he was perhaps a little slow in the head, or at least was how it seemed to Pug. The cat paused, probably thinking up an answer he thought Pug could understand. Pug waited patiently, idly watching as his companion’s tail flicked back and forth idly.
“The finch couldn’t leave. Not when it’s caged like it is.” Bartleby said at length
“Caged? He seemed pretty free to me.” Pug chuckled and beat his own wings, just enough to get his point across. Flying was true freedom, though he doubted any landbound creature could understand . Even a self proclaimed king.
“Not physically you fool, it’s his mind that is caged.” Bartleby stood and stretched as he began to saunter away, prompting Pug to hurry after him. Bartleby only went a short distance to the edge of the building they had met the finch upon before stopping. The cat looked out over the street below and for a moment Pug thought he saw a deep wisdom born of experience and terrible, crushing tiredness in the feline’s eyes.
“All things live in cages, fairy. You’d do well to remember .” Bartleby said quietly. “The finch’s cage was a cage of the mind. The familiar. He very well could have left, flown to some far-flung forest or field, another town or village, and lived out his days outside my reach. His fear, however, kept him back. His fear of uncertainty, of the strange and new.”
Pug wanted to speak but worried if he did Bartleby wouldn’t be so inclined to share again.
“So great is his need to live in familiarity he will return to this city once our transaction is done. He will roost in his nest and perch on these rooftops knowing fully well the day may come where I catch him again, and I may not be so merciful.”
“I don’t think I can relate to the poor bird.”
“No, I don’t think you could.” Bartleby laughed, though the sound held no mirth. He turned and looked Pug straight in the eyes then. “You’re caged by something else entirely, something far more tenacious. Fate.”
“Fate? I don’t think I’m bound up by something so grand as .” Pug said wryly, a small smile on his lips died as Bartleby remained gravely serious.
“What I’m saying, little fairy, is everyone has a cage and the luckiest among us get to choose what cage looks like. You should be sure to choose before it is chosen for you, elsewise the day may come when you hit the bars of your cage and find you don’t particularly care for what it’s made from.”
Before Pug could formulate a response the finch returned, bearing the details for when they were to meet with Danica. His part done, Bartleby leapt off the roof and vanished into the shadowed streets of the city. Pug had to wonder if being perplexing and cryptic for no good reason was a trait common to all cats, or if Bartleby especially took some perverse pleasure out of it. The finch took off left as soon as it was satisfied it had fulfilled its obligation, going into a steep climb from the edge of the rooftop. Pug noticed it left in the exact opposite direction of Bartleby.
Pug flew home, marginally relieved to no longer be in active conversation with Bartleby, as speaking with the cat was always an endeavor that seemed to produce headaches. Not that he didn’t like the king of the cats. Pug just didn’t consider himself much of a thinker and found himself stumbling over what the perplexing puss said hours after the fact. This most recent conversation was going to be the cause of much rumination, lingering on his mind all the way back to the workshop.
He just managed to shake it free as he slid acrobatically through the narrow gap left in one of the workshop windows just for his use. Tourmaline’s continued silence worried him, but their method of transportation home was sure to arouse a reaction, even if it was only one of extreme dismay. He glided on silent wings through the workshop onto the desk where their cots resided, where Lina had spent all of her time outside of meals.
“Hey Lina, guess what?” Pug said as he hovered at her bedside. A dull yet inquisitive groan from the blanketed lump in the cot answered him. “Danica agreed to give us a ride back home. We leave tomorrow morning, and should be home before nightfall.”
Pug waited for an exclamation of dread at the thought of flying, or perhaps begging for a different way home. Instead all he got was silence. He hovered slightly closer and tilted his head, facing his ear towards her.
“Did you hear me? Danica’s gonna fly us home.” Pug tried again.
“I heard you. I’m glad. All I want is to be back in my burrow, with my family, as soon as I can be.” Tourmaline’s tone was clipped, not inviting further conversation.
Pug regarded his friend’s motionless form for a little longer before shrugging helplessly. He’d see how well she maintained stoic front tomorrow, hundreds of feet in the sky. Giving his friend a long, trepidatious look towards his friend Pug took wing. He had to tell Thalia and Eleanore they’d be leaving soon and a few other odds and ends had to be wrapped up before they left. The majority of the displaced Wyldelife would be brought back to the Wylde by the humans in a week or two, and he ought to be sure they would feel secure once they were gone.
